In My Employ
by OldStoneface
Summary: One-shot done for a one-hour writing challenge. Vladimir and Sticks have a friendly discussion with a shopkeeper who has been practicing a little side-business in Vlad's area. Set early in Vlad's career. WARNING: Contains sarcasm, a wise-cracking carrion eater, and pithy sayings. Reader discretion is advised to be advisedly advisable.


_**The rights to the world of Dragaera, all its characters and settings are owned by Steven Karl Zoltán Brust aka 'God of All Pithy Sayings'. No profit is being derived from this story. Brust is a genius. Hypnotoad commands that you buy his books and read them.**_

Of the various methods one can employ to obtain information, oft-times the direct approach is best.

"Sticks, be so good as to explain to this fine gentleman why I am displeased." This was followed by the sound of wood meeting cranium once. Sticks was generally eloquent, but not verbose.

The subject of my gentle inquiry, a shopkeeper named Dernan or some such, winced and paled at the same time. If you think that I considered warning Sticks not to do any permanent damage, you don't know me, nor Sticks, nor how the Organization operates. Let's just say that while we have no qualms about using force to solve problems when required, doing so too frequently leads to questions. And questions lead to attention. And attention is bad for business.

The Organization is all about business.

"Milord!" Dernan winced and widened his eyes as beads of sweat actually began forming on his forehead. To be honest, this was the first time I'd ever actually _seen_ that happen. Sweat beads, would you credit it? What the hell, sometimes stupid sayings actually have some basis in fact. "I had a courier send them to you on Firstday, as required! Surely there is some mis- _oof_!"

My familiar Loiosh, chose that moment to snigger a thought to me. _Hey boss, he said there is some missoof, is that an Eastern dish?_

_Shut up Loiosh. And tell me if any Phoenix Guards show up._

_Sure Boss, sure. But if you find any missoof, I get first piece._

I didn't see the point in responding to that crack. There are days when I ask myself what I was thinking when I took on a small, carrion-eating dragon-like creature as my familiar**. In fact, I probably would be better served counting the days I _didn't_ ask myself what I had been thinking. I shook my head and turned my attention back to the matter at hand.

Dernan had apparently had his train of thought interrupted, due to suddenly become very well acquainted with a length of wood in the general diaphragm area. He was doubled over and trying to recover his breath. I decided to help him along somewhat.

"Yes, yes. The courier dropped those off the same day." I smiled broadly as I moved to his left side, opposite Sticks. This left Dernan turning his head to face me, while attempting to not lose sight of Sticks, and at the same time trying to remember how to inhale.

It's days like this that I love my job.

But to continue my efforts to help our reluctant Dernan along, "Now, what _we_ want to see are the _real_ books. Not the ones you show the Royal Assessors, and not those pathetic pimples on the ass of accountants everywhere that you tried to foist off on me. The _real_ books, that show the _real_ proceeds from our various business arrangements.

"Milord! I would nev-"

"Ah ah ah! Before you soil the air with another falsehood, let me save you the trouble of making up some long and sordid tale of how you don't know what I'm talking about." I reached up with my right hand to smooth my mustache, and of course his eyes followed the movement. He would have been better served to watch my left hand which brushed past my cloak and gained a rather long, sharp, and pointy object in the process. His eyes bulged as he felt the tiniest pinprick of it against his neck. No it's not magic folks, it just looks that way from the outside. Yes I'm that good.

I'm also modest.

_Right Boss, and I'm a parrot._

_Loiosh want a cracker?_

_Tonight, a dead teckla*** on your pillow._

_I could even get you an eye patch._

_Two dead teckla on your pillow._

I snorted, and Dernan looked like he was about to faint. Right on schedule, and no one was actually bleeding yet. I rubbed my hands together mentally.

"As I was saying. You know, and I know that those were not the real books. Don't nod! Good. So what you are going to do, right now, is in some manner that will not cause you to leak any important bodily fluids onto the nice clean floor, communicate to me where we can find the objects in question. And then, when I have discovered the depth of your sins, we can discuss your penance." Dernan swallowed and started to nod again, but stopped when I scowled at him. I like my scowl. I would tell you that I have never practiced it in front of a mirror, but I believe in honesty above all else that is why-

_*Snort*_

_You know damn well I am a paragon of honesty._

_Yeah Boss, it's a wonder they don't put up a statue to you._

Fine. But it's true. To succeed in the Organization, you have to be honest. At least selectively honest. It's about when and to whom you are honest that decides whether you succeed and thrive, or end up a rusty red smear being cleaned off someone's sidewalk.

_Loiosh, I am trying to perfect my 'very bad and dangerous Easterner' methodology here. If you keep snorting in my head and making pithy remarks, I'll either crack up or accidentally slit this idiot's throat, neither of which is the effect I'm going for._

_Sorry Boss._

_You should be. Now hush._

Where was I? Oh yeah. Dernan.

I moved the point of the stiletto a fraction of an inch away so he could actually move his head some. He swallowed and some of the color returned to his face.

"Milord, my apologies I-" I arched an eyebrow at him. "I must have sent the wrong copies to you of course. If I could just go to my desk, the correct ones must be still in the drawer." I nodded to Sticks without taking my eyes off of Dernan. Sticks moved out of my peripheral vision and I heard him attempt to open the drawer.

"It's locked Boss."

I arched my right eyebrow a bit further. I hoped I wouldn't have to do so again, because it was nearing its upper range of motion, and I suck at arching the left one.

"Ah the key," Dernan added helpfully if a bit shakily. "The key is in the upper tray." There was a jingling sound. A wooden sound. A book-sliding-out-of-a-drawer sound.

"Got it Boss."

"See? Now that wasn't so bad was it?" I removed the blade from the vicinity of his throat and stepped back a pace. He took the opportunity to sit up in the chair and immediately began rubbing the spot with his right hand, checking to make sure he wasn't bleeding. "Now, before you start thinking how glad you are to have all your various limbs and organs intact, let me explain what is going to happen. We are going to take this back to my office. And Kragar is going to go over this with a fine-toothed comb. I expect that this will take him some time to do. Let's say seven hours. And at the end of that time, we will compare the resulting numbers to all the money that you have paid in the last six months. And I have this strange feeling that we will, by some miracle of miracles, find that you have somehow overpaid by at least 100 imperials. That is, when we add in the money which will be fortuitously sitting on my receptionist's desk. Isn't that amazing?"

Dernan was paling again. "Bu-bu Milord, if you have the books, how will I know how much I was suppos- _had_! How much I _had already_ paid you?"

I stopped smiling. "Don't give me that, you lying son of a chreotha. You know damn well, to the penny, what those books are going to tell me. If I wasn't in a charitable mood, they would be notifying your next of kin yesterday. You do not want to piss me off. Do I make myself clear?" Dernan's chins wobbled frantically as he tried to show me just how enthusiastic he could be.

Did I say I loved my job?

* * *

As Sticks and I walked back to my offices, I mused a bit on the fact that this little trip had even been necessary. Life would have been much simpler if I could trust everyone who worked for me.

"You know Sticks, it's a shame. You just can't get good employees these days."

Sticks sneered at me a little. "You know it Boss. It's a cryin' shame."

"Oh. Yeah. Well present company excepted.

"Thanks Boss. I want a raise.

"Shut up Sticks."

_You know Boss they say a person's offspring are a reflection of their parenting ability. You think that applies to Bosses too?_

_Shut up Loiosh._

* * *

_** It might have to do with the fact that a jhereg (small j) seemed somehow fitting as the familiar for a member of House Jhereg (capital J). Considering House Jhereg handles most of the illicit business of society, living off its leavings and scraps and backroom deals, it seemed the perfect fit to have a familiar that shares the same traits. Not sure I had counted on the caustic sense of humor though…_

_*** A teckla is a small mammal similar to a field mouse. They breed like mice too and are very industrious. There is also a social caste called Teckla (capital T) which is the peasant caste. It makes sense if you think about it._


End file.
